Shattered
by carlycarter
Summary: Kate/Juliet. 'She is shocked to realise there is still something left inside her to shatter. And that thing shatters quietly as she listens to Kate's voice on the other end of the phone.'


For Ella ~ aka Zippy88

_**Chapter 1**_.

Juliet Burke is entirely unaware of the hauntingly beautiful picture she makes.

She sits casually on the edge of the pier. One leg tucked up underneath her, and the other swinging freely over the edge. Her long blonde hair falling over her shoulders. Her clear blue eyes staring straight ahead out at the vast ocean. She is determined not to cry. She has long since perfected that art. Her eyes sting in the salty breeze, but she will not blink. She is well aware of the cold steely gaze, the harshness, the _ not-quite-humanness_ of it all. She had perfected it many times in front of that mirror. It's just, somewhere along the way, that facade had seeped into her blood. Somewhere alone the way, on that island, that's who she had become. Juliet Burke- Cold. Remorseless. Heartless. Less than human.

And it wasn't somewhere far far along the way, either. It was fast. It was easy, how she had transformed into an entirely different person, a person she despised.

She tries not to blame herself for that. She was trying to survive, not only that, to protect the people she loved, Rachel, Julian. But there is more to it, she knows it. There is a tiny glimmer of her that knows, no one can make her into something she is not. She always had that potential. That darkness inside of her. She doesn't remember it as a conscious choice, either. It just happened. As if it was who she was always meant to become.

And here she now sits, like many lonely nights gone by, sitting on the edge of the ocean. Just watching silently in the dark. It's different, of course, this pier. There are boats, for one thing. Dozens of them. Should she wish, she could climb onto any one of them, steal it, and sail away to anywhere she wanted to go. She isn't trapped. Not physically trapped, that is. It's just, she had always believed if she could just get off that island, everything would be ok, would go back to normal. How wrong she had been. She could now climb into any of these boats, sail to any place in the world. There would _stil_l be no escape. There is simply nowhere to go. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. She accepts this.

Although she has her back turned to the city, there is noise behind her. The chaos of the traffic, people, civilisation, and the bright lights of Miami are reflecting off the waters edge. It's nothing like the island. _Nothing._ Yet something about that never ending ocean stretching in front of her as far as the eye can see, the angry waves crashing against the pylons. It strikes an unpleasant chord of familiarity. And she finds some twisted comfort in tormenting herself with it.

She clutches the cell phone in her trembling hand. The object is unfamiliar to her. It's not a gun, not a walkie talkie. It's an ordinary cell phone, used by ordinary people, in this ordinary world. A world she no longer belongs in. Still, she clutches the object for dear life. As if it is capable of bringing her some peace.

With a racing heart and shaky fingers, she dials the number. She knows it by memory, that number. Her mind has become so scrambled she isn't certain she remembers anything else. She can't remember Rachel's birthday, she can't remember her own. Can't remember the date her life was altered irrevocably when she set foot on that island. But this phone number, this one number, her life line. This, she remembers. It's a comforting ritual, pressing the numbers one by one in sequence. She could very easily hit redial. But that lacks satisfaction. The numbers bring her peace, and she quietly chants them to herself over and over.

She doesn't even lift the phone to her ear. She merely stares at it for a second, and then, without allowing the person on the other end the chance to pick up, she terminates the call. Discards the phone at her side, refusing to look at it for a good half an hour. And then, she begins all over again.

She notes the missed calls accumulating, the voice mail messages that she is too frightened to play. She, Juliet Burke, is frightened. Of a stupid phone. Of messages. Of people. Of what they have to say to her.

She wonders, in those self pitying moments she allows herself, how her life had turned into this? This pathetic mess of a human being sitting on a pier, too afraid to pick up a phone. It takes an inordinate amount of time for her to realise that this is exactly who she is, rather who she _was_. Before that island. A pathetic mess. She had no confidence, no courage. And there are times, fleeting moments which she berates herself for, when she appreciates, just for a second, the things the island has brought to her. There is a tiny stab of grief when she realises it's all lost to her now, out of her reach.

It's not that it's all been erased. She has killed people, that has stained her soul, and can never be washed away. She sold out her integrity for personal gain. She lives with these things, they can not be shaken off. But her confidence, her calm under pressure, her fearlessness. The thing about her that elicited such strong reactions from others, fear or resentment or admiration. The thing that made her a formidable opponent. That made her, in island terms, worthy and strong. That thing is gone.

She misses it a little. Though not a day went by in three long years she didn't wish for this, her pathetic miserable doormat life back. To be sitting on an ordinary pier in Miami crying over pathetic stupid things that aren't life and death. Now she is here. And now it feels...empty.

She doesn't know how long she has been sitting here, dialling that phone, looking out at the ocean wishing for impossible things. She doesn't know what it is that finally makes her snap. Its not that she's found some deep dark courage, no. The island drained every last deep dark reserve of strength she possessed. It's more the prospect of another long night alone. It's too much.

It makes no sense to her, that she can survive, and even thrive, on that ghastly hell like place for three years. And she can not stand the prospect of one night, one more night, like this. She really has left pieces of herself behind on that island. Pieces she never thought she'd need here, back home. Pieces she never valued. Pieces she despised. Pieces she would kill for now.

_What is the worst thing that could happen?_ She asks herself. She thinks over the possibilities- being laughed at scoffed at, being looked down upon as if she were crazy, evil, as if she deserved this. Finding out that no one else understood her, this feeling. Not even those who had been on that island. _So what?_ Could it be worse than this? Sitting here like this? Night after night after night, with no respite from this torment?

She isn't certain. And she has never, not even before the island, been one to go begging . She has her pride. The prospect of picking up a phone, telling someone she needed something from them, is a scenario which never occurred to her. But she has nothing to lose now, she supposes.

That realisation brings relief. After all those years of Rachel's life being held over her head, Rachel is fine. Juliet can see it with her own two eyes. There is nothing left hanging over her. Nothing left to fight for. Nothing left to fear. And yet, she is afraid. Desperately afraid.

Being reunited with her sister again only makes her feel only numb. Not joyful at meeting her beautiful nephew, her name sake, whose life she created, she saved. Not even Julian's sparkling miraculous eyes can light up her world. Not her beloved sister, the sister she had committed unspeakable acts to protect. There is a wall between them now. An invisible division. Rachel pretends it is not there. Pretends that everything is fine.

Juliet had told her "_Don't ask me. Don't ask me anything." _

Rachel hadn't asked. Not even once.

Even though she had respected Juliet's wishes , it disappoints Juliet. She knows that it's not fair to judge Rachel. Not in the slightest. Rachel respected her wishes. Poor Rachel who had been walking on eggshells these past weeks, trying not to say or do the wrong thing. Deathly afraid of losing her sister again. But Juliet still wants to know how Rachel can just sit there, ask no questions, demand no answers. Just accepting that Juliet was gone, now she is back. And how can Rachel not notice that it's not Juliet who is back at all. It's merely a shell of the person she once was. But Rachel seems not to notice, not to care. She only wants to believe her sister has been returned to her. So, she believes it.

It's why Juliet won't call Rachel tonight. It's why Juliet wont ask Rachel for help. Rachel doesn't understand, not even a little bit. Bless her heart, she tries. And besides, after the way Juliet abandoned her all those years ago, when she was sick and pregnant, Juliet has no right to ask her for help now.

Juliet has no right to ask anyone to help her. Who would even want to? There is not one single person in the world she feels like she has the right to call on. Not one single person who would lift a finger for her now. Not even Ben.

She is undeniably drawn to someone, though. Perhaps because she is tormenting herself. Banging her head against a brick wall. Perhaps she doesn't want help, perhaps she wants to be put out of her misery. Perhaps she wants someone to stare her in the eyes and say to her "_I know who you are. You are disgusting. Less than human. You don't deserve to live." _Perhaps she thinks she will feel better to hear it from somebody else.

So, this one time, she dials the number, she lets the phone ring. Slowly she pulls the phone to her ear, hearing the click of the other person answering. Before allowing them to speak, hastily she blurts out in a shaky voice "Please, don't hang up. Please."

She despises that shake in her voice, the desperation. It isn't her. It's weak. It's pathetic. And yet she is desperate. She feels as if that person hanging up the phone would be the ultimate rejection. The end of her. Even though it is expected, even though it is deserved. _'Do anything you want to me'_ She thinks to herself, '_But do not hang up the phone.'_

"Why would I hang up? I've been calling you for days." Comes the reply from Kate Austen. There is puzzlement in the other woman's tone. Confusion mixed with concern.

This is all so backwards. So confusing. But Kate Austen had always been an enigma.

Kate- reckless, stupid, destructive.

Kate- who threw her life away for a mother who didn't deserve it, who turned around and hated her for it.

Kate- capable of cold blooded murder, and not only that but not the slightest tinge of remorse- and all this before the wretched island.

Kate- charismatic, spell binging Kate, who had captivated Sawyer and Jack (And if Juliet is honest, perhaps Kate had charmed her also).

Kate- sitting on that island beach, faraway look in her eyes, playing with a a toy plane as if she were a child. Looking innocent, looking lost.

Kate- rocking baby Aaron to sleep in her arms. Cradling him close, whispering to him, comforting. Where on earth had she found even the slightest mothering instinct?

Kate- full of fire and fury, locked in a cage, and ready to kill.

Kate- remorseless killer, yet risking her life time and time again to save her friends.

Kate- creeping out of Sawyer's tent in the early house of the morning giggling like a school girl.

Kate- worshipping Jack as her hero, yet defying him at every turn.

Kate- brandishing a firearm in Juliet's direction, capable and willing to pull that trigger.

Kate- who never stopped running.

Kate- the survivor, who had nothing to live for, not one damn thing. But this unbelievable instinct to fight.

Juliet had never been able to make sense of Kate Austen. She had all the files, knew almost every fact there was to know about the woman. But none of it made any sense.

And the one picture that stands out above the rest. The way Kate's eyes had turned black with rage. With grief and hatred and anger. That morning they had found Claire dead.

That was not supposed to happen, Claire dying. To this day, Juliet doesn't understand it. She can only put it down to one of Ben's mind games.

Jack had warned her, if anything happened to Claire, he would not be able to protect her. And yet, that morning, on that sunny beach, as the survivors stood looking down at Claire's lifeless body, her vacant dead eyes, it was Jack who protected her. Jack who held Kate back, physically restrained her from coming after Juliet. The sound of Kate's murderous screams haunted Juliet's nightmares ever since. And Juliet has no doubt, if not for Jack, Kate Austen would have killed her that morning. With her bare hands.

That's why it's so odd to hear the other woman's casual voice on the other end of the phone. That's why it's odd to hear the note of concern in her tone. It is all so backwards. They had been natural enemies from day one. Kate had never spoken to her with even a flicker of respect. It was never expected between them.

"I need to speak to you." It's not easy for Juliet to say that, not to Kate of all people. To admit she needs something from someone. She has no reason to expect Kate to agree in any case.

But Kate answers "Ok." Just like that. "Tell me where you are?"

Juliet is stumped for a moment. She hadn't expected the call to go like this. She is no longer certain what she is seeking from Kate, and for a moment she is tempted to just hang up. To just jump off this god damn pier, into the ocean, that same vast ocean that encircled that wretched island, and let it consume her.

"Juliet?" Kate prompts her. It's a different side of Kate to the one Juliet knows. Juliet knows _'island'_ Kate. _'Fight to the death'_ Kate. Not '_casual phone conversation'_ Kate. It surprises her, more than a little, to realise that off the island, Kate is a different person too.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called." Juliet stumbles. She knows she shouldn't have called. She knows she shouldn't have apologised. She is doing ALL the wrong things. But she feels like she is no longer in control. And she does not hang up. She can't.

"Just, tell me where you are." Kate repeats, in this kind, reassuring tone, as if everything will be ok. Much like the tone that Juliet might have used with her patients at one time. It's a little bit false. Because no one can make everything ok for another person, Juliet knows this. But she wants to believe it. Just for tonight.

Still, three years of paranoia aren't easy to shake. This is a trap. An ambush. Years of trusting no one had put vile, hateful thoughts like that into her head. Why was Kate so desperate to know her location? Perhaps she would turn up with Jack and Sawyer and Sayid? But, really, what could they do to her? How could they torment her in any way that she had not already tormented herself. Besides, she reminds herself, she had been the one to call Kate.

Juliet hears Kate take a deep breath on the other end of the phone. Juliet can tell it's taking all of Kate's effort not to get frustrated and hang up. Kate Austen had never been known for her patience. "Juliet, please, just tell me where you are. I'll meet you. We can talk. That's what you wanted. That's why you called, right?"

Something shatters quietly inside Juliet. Something_ else._ Just when she thought she had nothing left inside her to break. Years and years of torment, manipulation, disappointment, death, guilt. Losing all hope, losing every person in her life who was important to her, losing even herself and turning into a person she did not recognise. After all of that, she is shocked to realise there is still something left inside her to shatter. And it shatters quietly as she listens to Kate's voice on the other end of the phone. There is no anger, no resentment. Just an odd reassurance. Some sort of understanding. So what if it's an ambush, so what if Kate shows up with an army of 815 survivors. What can they do to her? Her soul is in pieces, she has not even a remnant of her life left. Let them come. Let them take her.

It's truthfully not that which scares her, being hunted down, and convicted and killed. What frightens her is Kate seeing her in such a total mess.

Of course, it's how she'd been before the island. Somewhat of a pathetic mess of a woman. But Kate had never known it. Kate never had the advantage of secret files, of knowing every piece of Juliet's life the way Juliet knew Kate's.

There are of course many things Juliet wishes Kate had never known about her. Everything to do with her hidious vile '_otherness'_. But Juliet admits, she likes that Kate had always known her as confident, resourceful, unbreakable. She isn't ready to shatter that false image in Kate's mind. Oddly enough, Juliet would prefer that Kate think of her as an evil _other_, than a pathetic mess.

"I'm sorry, just forget it, It doesn't matter. Sorry to bother you. " Juliet can scarcely believe the words coming out of her mouth. _'Sorry to bother you?'_ Of all the things that needed apologising for on that island, in a shaky voice she is apologising for a phone call. It's absurd.

"No." Kate insists firmly, but somewhat gently. "I won't forget it. Tell me where you are." Now that's something Juliet recognises in Kate, never giving up. That's familiar. Comforting.

Juliet can't tell any more if Kate is angry or not. But it feels so nice to let go, to not be the one who has to be in control all the time. Kate is insisting Juliet tell her location, and so Juliet will. Because it's just so easy to go along with what Kate is asking of her. Somehow, it's just so damn easy to let Kate take control. Because Juliet is so weary. And she really does not care anymore.

"The pier." Juliet tells her.

"Ok, I'll be there in half an hour. Wait for me." Is all Kate says.

Kate doesn't ask why on earth Juliet would want to be anywhere near the ocean. She doesn't ask Juliet why she called or what she wants to talk about. She just agrees to meet her, just like that. And hangs up the phone.

And Juliet waits, just as Kate had instructed her.


End file.
